A Soft Place to Land
by criminalkeen
Summary: Harvey is forced to stand idly by while Donna's life is put in danger, helping him to gain some much-needed perspective. Head's up: This story involves a catastrophic plane crash. It also has a positive ending, I promise. One-shot, Harvey/Donna, Complete.


**Author's Note: The title is from the song "A Soft Place to Land" by Kathleen Edwards.**

"Louis, where's Donna?" Harvey had been waiting at his former secretary's desk for nearly eight minutes, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"Well that depends: who's asking?"

"Who do you _think_ , numbnuts? _I'm_ asking."

"Okay first of all, I don't appreciate your tone. And second of all, Donna's not here today."

"What do you mean she's not here?"

"I mean that since she did such an incredible job helping me with the Jameson-Sheffield merger, I gave her a long weekend." He shrugged. "I think she went down to Florida to see her cousin or something."

"When is she gonna be back?"

"Look, Harvey, is there something I can help you with? This may come as a surprise to you, but I have some secretarial experience myself."

Despite the seemingly infinite potential for jokes based on that statement, Harvey wasn't in the mood. "Just let me know when she's back in, will ya?"

"Yeah, absolutely, will do," Louis said, narrowing his eyes at Harvey's retreating form. He had a right to be suspicious. As far as he could remember, there wasn't a single good thing he had that Harvey Specter hadn't tried to take from him. Which meant that Donna was something...er...some _one_...he had to protect at all costs.

* * *

His first two calls rang straight to voicemail. She picked up on the third.

"What is it, Harvey? I'm trying to enjoy my last hour of beach time without having to think about you, or Louis, or Jessica..."

"So you'll be back today?"

"For God's sake...yes, I'll be back today. In fact, you really wanna know everything? How about this: in two hours I'll be getting on Flight 435 to Atlanta. When I get there, I will have a mere 30 minutes to catch Flight 1633 to LaGuardia, where I will then catch a cab to my apartment, put my phone on silent, and enjoy the rest of my day off." She paused. "What is this about, anyway?"

"I need the files for the Rogers-Blakely case."

"Harvey, that case is _ancient_ ––"

"Which is why Gretchen can't seem to find it anywhere. Donna I need those files, and I need them by tomorrow or else Mike and I have got _nothing_ to take to the judge in the morning."

"Well maybe you should have thought of that a few days earlier, _before_ I went on vacation. Because right now, I'm sorry but...I don't care. You're going to have to find them on your own."

"But I––"

"Good luck, Harvey."

In the old days, he would have been shamed by the humiliating sound of a dial tone. Now, his phone simply said "Call Ended."

Gretchen cleared her throat. He wondered how long she'd been standing there watching him seethe.

"Dr. Agard called back," she said gently. "She can see you at 3."

* * *

After making steady progress for several sessions, Harvey seemed to have hit a therapeutic plateau. Actually, it was more like a brick wall.

Dr. Agard had succeeded in getting him to open up about his mother. She'd even managed to convince him that his feelings about her betrayal really did form the root of his relationship issues. Where they were struggling now was how to tie it all together: Donna, his mother, the panic attacks. Was he really just looking for things to return to the way they were, or was there something else? Something more?

When he arrived at Dr. Agard's office, he found her glued to a small television in the corner of the room. He knocked against the open door, hoping it would alert her to his presence.

"Ah, hello Harvey! Please, come in." She was about to turn off the TV when a line of text at the bottom of the screen caught Harvey's eye.

"Wait, what's going on there?" he asked, pointing at the screen.

"Oh, it's really quite horrible," Paula said, shaking her head. "That poor plane there has been circling LaGuardia for over an hour," she explained. "There was some sort of mechanical failure with its landing gear, so now they're just burning fuel until air traffic control says that it's safe to attempt a landing."

Harvey crept closer to the TV, squinting to make out the details that scrolled beneath the headline. When the flight number passed, his stomach dropped. "Oh my God."

"I know, it's truly awful. I remember this happening a few years ago, in Los Angeles…"

"Donna's on that plane." The color had drained from his face, his eyes suddenly wild. "Donna's on that plane...I...I have to get over there."

"And do what, Harvey? Slap on your red cape and carry the plane to safety?"

"I have to do _something_!"

"The best thing you can do right now is just to wait here and see what happens," Paula said gently. "Look, I know it's hard, but...it could still be an hour yet before they're cleared to land." She reached for the remote control and lowered the volume. "I'll leave the TV on, but I think we should talk."

"Are you nuts? Do you really think I'm going to be able to focus on anything else right now?"

"Then let's talk about Donna."

"Listen, I've already told you all there is to tell, alright?"

"You get defensive when I ask about her. Why is that?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you've asked me about her a million times, or maybe, just _maybe_ , it's because I'm a little too preoccupied with whether she's going to _live_ or _die_ to sit around exploring whether or not you think I'm in love with her."

Paula settled back into the couch cushions and attempted to conceal her bemusement. "Well are you?"

"Am I what?"

"In love with her. And before you protest: you brought that up straight out of the blue; I've never once asked you whether you're in love with her."

"I… look, are you going to turn the volume back up, or not?"

"Answer one question for me and I promise I'll hand over the clicker."

"Fine, but pick a different question."

"Alright...what do you miss most about Donna now that she's gone to work for Louis? And don't say anything just yet. Take a moment to think about it."

This woman was like the devil incarnate. Harvey pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it over and over in his hand distractedly, locking and unlocking the screen until he started to annoy even himself. He set it on the table between them and sighed.

"I miss how she always knew what I needed...before I even knew I needed something."

"You've said that your new secretary...Gretchen, was it?...is very talented at anticipating your needs."

"In a legal capacity, yes."

"And Donna helped you in more than just a legal capacity?"

"What do you want me to say?" Harvey shook his head in frustration.

"I'm just trying to understand, that's all." She enjoyed it when he got feisty. It meant that he was getting close to understanding something important about himself.

Harvey closed his eyes. A memory floated to the surface of his mind. He and Donna were talking in his office after what had turned out to be a very long, difficult day.

" _Well that doesn't make me a good man. That makes you a good man for me."_

" _Harvey, sometimes we need a little help."_

"Are you alright Harvey?" Paula asked. He'd been slouched over, pinching the bridge of his nose, for over a minute now.

"Sorry," he said, looking up warily. "The answer to your question is that...she helped me become a better man."

There was definitely a lot to be unpacked there, but she could tell he was struggling so she decided to move on. "What else do you miss?"

"Hey, I thought you said _one_ question."

"Humor me, Harvey."

He scowled. "Alright. I miss...just...looking out of my office and seeing her there."

"She'd been a constant in your life for quite a long time. It must have been very comforting."

Harvey fought back the urge to argue against that statement. It was true, he had been comforted by her presence. "I always knew that no matter what happened, we'd get through it together."

"A bond like that doesn't just dissolve overnight." She knew he could see the curiosity in her eyes. "Now Harvey I'm not going to ask you to tell me what happened between you and Donna because I don't want you storming out of here in the state you're in. But I want you to think about that moment where everything seemed to go wrong and ask yourself: if you could relive it, knowing what you know now, would you play it the same way? Would you make the same choices?"

"Is that meant to be rhetorical?"

"Yes. But this isn't: if, God forbid, something happens to her today...will you have regrets?"

"Jesus. You really are a manipulative son of a bi––" He stood up, fists clenched. Once again, he found himself at a familiar crossroads: it was either fight or flight.

Except he'd thrown enough punches lately. _Too many_.

He made his way toward the door.

"Harvey wait." She tossed him the remote. "I won't say another word."

He eyed her suspiciously before circling back to the couch and focusing his attention on the news. A female reporter was delivering an update.

"We've just received a statement from the head of the emergency response team that the aircraft has now burned off enough fuel to safely attempt a 'belly landing.' That's a landing without the use of the landing gear. It looks like there's about half a dozen fire trucks already standing by on the side of the runway, ready to respond immediately if the plane _does_ happen to catch fire as it comes to a stop."

"You know, these types of landings are actually very common," Paula said. "I think I read once that over one hundred landings a year are completed successfully without the use of landing gear. So really, there's nothing to worry about."

"Those people must be terrified," Harvey said quietly.

The camera shifted from the runway crews to the sky, locking in on the plane which seemed to be making one last circle. "We can see now Captain Matthews aligning the aircraft for the final descent. In a matter of minutes this long nightmare for the passengers of Flight 1633 will come to what we hope will be a safe and painless conclusion."

"Now it's speed that's going to be critical here," her male co-host chimed in. "Speed and the angle of descent. If he comes down too hard or too fast, he's going to risk causing some life-threatening damage to that plane. He's gotta just ease it down, nice and even."

"Here he comes!" the woman exclaimed excitedly. "I don't know Matt, it looks like he's coming down at a bit of a harsh angle..."

"Let's hope he can level off here before...oh! And they're on the ground! That landing was a touch harder than I think we expected...it looks like they may have bounced a couple times there. Would you look at those sparks fly and we can see the fire trucks tailing the plane but it looks as if everything went perfectly according to pla…"

It was then, Harvey recalled, that time seemed to come screaming to halt...and then continue, yet slowly––as if everything was happening at about 10 frames per second. He felt as if he'd been right there, standing in the middle of the explosion when it happened, his ears ringing and his world suddenly dipping and twisting and turning like one of those crazy scrambler rides at Coney Island.

The reporters were mouthing "Oh my God" over and over but Harvey couldn't hear them, couldn't hear himself doing the exact same thing without even realizing it. He had dropped to his knees in front of the television, hand clamped over his mouth as the fire trucks surrounded the burning aircraft. The reporters were silent now and he wondered if they felt the same way he did, like they were about to…

He threw up on Paula's carpet.

When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on his back on the couch with a cold, wet washcloth across his forehead.

"What…" he began, but the question was pointless. He knew what had happened.

"I'm afraid you sort of blacked out for a bit," Paula said. Her eyes were red and puffy and the coffee table was crowded with crumpled tissues. She reached for his hand. "They're saying no survivors," she half-whispered, her voice giving way to a sob. "I'm so sorry Harvey."

He closed his eyes. "I'll get you a glass of water," she offered, giving his hand a squeeze.

A thousand images flooded Harvey's thoughts. There was Donna, absolutely _captivating_ as she commanded the stage in _The Merchant of Venice_ (had he ever told her how much he actually enjoyed that?); Donna, slipping him the can opener with a sly smile as they slinked off to perform their pre-trial ritual; Donna, standing rigid in his office, lip trembling ever so slightly as she told him about his father (did she know what a comfort she was to him in that moment?); Donna, urging him to go after Scottie, to fight for what was in his heart; Donna, tangled in sheets, her expression eager as he gave that can of whipped cream one last shake…

And now...now he would never see her again. Like a breath of air, she was gone.

Paula had told him once that people's relationship problems often stemmed from their selective memories. That they only saw what they wanted to see and by failing to see the big picture, they thus failed to see how integral the other person was to their life. They saw all of the bad times, and none of the good.

Suddenly Harvey found himself unable to think of a single bad time.

When Paula returned, she noticed an odd notification flash on his phone screen. She picked it up from the coffee table and read it again, just to make sure.

"Harvey, this says you have a missed call from Donna." She shot him a confused glance.

"What? When?"

"Uh...twenty minutes ago. Looks like she left a message."

"Twenty minutes ago...that's before…" he trailed off, staring wide-eyed at the phone in his hand. "Oh my God. What if she called to say goodbye? What if she called to say goodbye and I didn't answer because my damn phone was on silent, because I was here… and dammit, I wouldn't even _be_ here if I hadn't been such a jackass to her in the first place, if I hadn't been so afraid to admit to myself that...that…"

"You _are_ in love with her."

"You're damn right I am! Or... _was_ …I... damn it." He was crying again. By this point, his cheeks had become so saturated with tears that new ones just slid straight to the floor. Rapid fire, like rain. He buried his face in his hands. "I can't do this. I can't listen to it."

"Do you want me to listen to it?"

He handed her the phone. "Please," he croaked.

She sat down beside him, hands shaking slightly as she brought the phone to her ear. She closed her eyes.

Harvey stared at her with bated breath. What had Donna wanted him to know? That she loved him? He had figured that much. Had she given him some parting advice, perhaps messages to deliver to her family, or others at the firm? His attention snapped back to reality when Paula's lips curled slowly into a smile. And then a laugh.

She dropped the phone in her lap as she doubled over laughing.

"What is it? What the hell are you laughing about?"

"Harvey!" she grabbed his knee with one hand and wiped her eyes with the other. "She wasn't on the plane!"

"What are you talking about?!"

"Donna! She..." Paula made every attempt to calm herself down so she could explain. "She got held up in Atlanta, and then...diverted to JFK. She's…" She checked her watch. "She's probably at her apartment right now!"

"She's...she's...give me that!" Harvey snatched the phone and hit "play" on Donna's voicemail. Halfway through her apology for being snippy with him about the case files he was looking for, he completely lost it. Pulling Paula into a rough hug, he practically tossed her back onto the couch as he stood up abruptly.

"I...I'm sorry. I have to go. I have to go right now," He walked briskly to the door. "Wait..." He turned and made his way back, bending to kiss Paula on the cheek. " _Thank you_ ," he said sincerely. She smiled.

"Just tell me how it goes, will you?" she called as he shut the door behind him.

* * *

In what felt like hours but what was in actuality only about fifteen minutes, he was there. Apartment 206. He pounded on the door. "Donna?"

"Just a second!" she called.

He rested his forehead against the door while he waited, stumbling slightly when she swung it open.

"Holy shit Harvey, you look like hell."

He stared at her for a moment, unable to move, let alone speak. A tear slid down his cheek and suddenly he was hugging her with such ferocity that she gasped with surprise.

"Oh...kay…easy there," she soothed. "What's gotten into you? This is clearly more than a 'happy to see you' hug or even a 'thank God you're back so you can save my ass' hug."

"You didn't see the news," he said, stepping back but maintaining a firm grip on her upper arms. Truthfully, he was afraid she'd disappear if he wasn't touching her in some way.

"No, I just got back. What happened?"

He sighed. "Your plane...the one you _should_ have been on from Atlanta to LaGuardia. It...it didn't make it. Exploded on the runway."

"Oh my God," Donna clasped one hand over her mouth. "So you, you thought I was…"

"I thought you were gone," he whispered.

She studied his face. He'd obviously been through hell and back, his eyelids red and underscored by deep pockets, agony written across every raw inch of skin between his forehead and his chin. She stepped toward him and gave him another squeeze. "Hey, it's okay, I'm still here," she said softly.

She let him hold her there for several minutes, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on her back. When he let her go, his expression was determined.

"Listen to me Donna, because this is important, okay?" he began. "I lied to you."

"Lied to me? So...you _don't_ need the Rogers-Blakely files?"

"No, I lied to you when I said that I only told you I loved you because I felt sorry for you, and when I implied that I didn't look at you in that way, I was just..."

She held up a hand. "Hold it, stop right there. You don't get to do this, okay Harvey? Just because you thought I was dead and it made you feel sad, or, I don't know, _guilty_...doesn't mean you actually believe what you're saying right now. In fact, I guarantee that you'll wake up tomorrow morning and regret ever saying it." She shook her head. "God, do you even _realize_ what an unfair position you just put me in?"

" _Sad_? You think I was _sad_ when I thought you'd been blown to smithereens? Donna I wanted to _kill myself_. You're right: tragedies can prompt people to make false promises. But they can also bring _clarity._ You think I'm going to wake up tomorrow morning and regret this? I think I'm going to wake up tomorrow morning and every morning after that wishing I could tell you how much I love you. Wishing you could forgive me for being such a goddamn coward all these years."

She stared at him momentarily, and in the silence she was sure he could hear her heart pounding. "Say it again," she said softly.

"I'm a coward."

"No, before that."

He exhaled sharply, his face relaxing into a grin. "I love you."

A split second later she found herself fumbling with the buttons on his shirt while he attacked her lips, wrapping her legs around his waist as they stumbled toward the bedroom. Picture frames clattered to the ground as they crashed and slid against the wall and he smiled as she yanked her hair out of its ponytail, throwing the hair band unceremoniously across the room. It was all very messy, and therefore all very _them_.

He would never deserve her, that much he knew. But she was here, and she wanted him, and that was more than enough.

* * *

He made one last appointment with Paula, to say goodbye.

"Thanks for fixing me up, Doc."

"Actually, I'm afraid I didn't do much of anything at all. This was all you, Harvey."

"Does that mean I get my money back?"

"Not a chance!" she laughed. She offered her hand, but he went in for a hug instead.

"Goodbye, Paula."

"Goodbye Harvey."

* * *

Donna barely had time to settle in at her desk Tuesday morning before her phone rang.

"You've reached the office of Louis Litt, how may I help you?"

"Actually, I was hoping to make an appointment with Donna Paulsen."

She smirked. "And your your name is…?"

"Harvey Specter."

"Alright Mr. Specter, it looks like Ms. Paulsen is free after 6:30 today. When should I pencil you in?"

"How about 7:30, dinner at my place? Tell her I'll pick her up. Actually...tell her if she doesn't wanna wait that long, she can meet me at 2:30 in the northeast stairwell. I know a place with a lovely view."

"Harvey are you insane?!" she hissed. "Er...I mean...Ms. Paulsen would be _delighted_ to...meet with you...at 2:30." _What a little shit_ , she thought.

"Excellent. Oh and one more thing: could you tell her that I love her?"

"Okay but you _did_ just tell her that two hours ago when you were still in bed…"

"I just don't want her to forget."

Donna smiled and shook her head. "I love you too, Harvey."


End file.
